


Letter to my son

by Sweetss80



Category: SS-GB (TV), SS-GB - Len Deighton
Genre: English translation of my Dutch story, Father-Son Relationship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 05:43:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13991697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetss80/pseuds/Sweetss80
Summary: This is the English translation of my Dutch story "Brief aan mijn zoon."





	Letter to my son

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nn0ics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nn0ics/gifts).
  * A translation of [Brief aan mijn zoon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13925490) by [Sweetss80](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetss80/pseuds/Sweetss80). 



London, November 1941 

 

Dear Douggie, 

What do I still live for? This is not a place for a child to grow up. I lost my wife, your mom. Every day I try to pretend it’s an ordinary day at work. Solving crimes. Sometimes solving a murder. Questioning of suspects. I report and I have a briefing every morning with my superior. Nothing seems to have changed. But the difference is only that my superior is a German who loves the English customs. He wears tweed suits more than his uniform. He drinks tea. And he speaks English with a German accent. Harry doesn’t like him at all. Maybe rightly so. 

This, my son, is the reality in which we have to live. We are overpowered, we are on ration and every day we have to tolerate them. Every day arrests, German roar, executions. 

Welcome to London, the once thriving metropolis. Now a city with all those horrible swastikas everywhere. There is no escape. 

Mom and I got to know each other in London. You were born in London. I would have liked to have shown you moms and my favorite spots. 

But I won’t do it. I just can’t. This isn’t the London I had in mind. 

My son, sometimes I have no idea what is going on in you. You don’t have to tell me you miss your mother. Even if you were very young when your mother died, you immediately felt that something had changed definitively. I cried that day. I was desperate. Thought about you, about our future. You were too young to realize that mommy would never come back. When mom died, a piece of myself died as well. 

You keep strong. Because of me? To relieve me? Don’t do that. I can see from your face that sometimes you can’t handle it. You miss mom, just as I miss her. You lack stability. And even though Mrs. Sheeran is very appreciative and motherly to you, she can never take mom’s place. And she knows that too. Moreover, she already has enough worries. 

Every time I get a lump in my throat when I see your face behind the window. I go to my work. I see a little face of anxiety and fear. And you are always so happy when I come home safely again. Safe, together with our little family. 

But once I came home and you immediately flew at me. You hugged me firmly and you didn’t want to let me go. You cried. You were clearly upset. 

I held you tight, I hugged you and I whispered to you: "I will never let you down, Douggie, never!" That answer reassured you. When I asked why you were so upset, you said you had a nightmare. That you suddenly lost me. The terrible feeling of being alone, without mommy and me. 

My heart breaks as I write this down. Sometimes I feel that I fall short. I feel terrible. I want to do everything to protect you but at what price? It’s already being whispered that I am a collaborator because I speak fluently German and because I have access almost everywhere with my police card. Sylvia no longer recognizes me. She thinks that I should be more certain.

More often I think to bring Mrs. Sheeran, Bob, and you elsewhere. Away from London. To the countryside perhaps. But how do I deal with this? Every step of me is checked. Is it not by the Germans then it is by suspicious local residents. 

Douggie, I want you to read this letter carefully. You must know that I will never leave you. You are the only thing worth living for in this dreary world. I am obliged to do this for myself.  And to my dear Jill. And you have to know that I have to take actions sometimes that are incomprehensible to you now. And also for other people. Like dealing with the enemy. Even Harry thinks that I go on the edge sometimes. 

But I do it for you, my son. I try to survive. And you are always in first place with me. 

And there will come a time when they are gone. Then we have the world again for ourselves. And then I can finally show you how beautiful London is.

Hold on, my son. Hold on. And don’t forget that I love you very much.

 

Lots of love,

 

Your father


End file.
